


Robofish Activate!!!!

by Cydric



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Drinking, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Prolly a lil ooc, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Sopor Slime, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, idk - Freeform, mentions of abuse, oh hey its more hurt eri, so like its a mixed culture i guess???, the trolls are still trolls and the humans are still humans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cydric/pseuds/Cydric
Summary: Eridan has fucked up multiple times after highschool and only has one person he can call a friend now. Dirk was forced to attend Skaia University and is the new roommate of an artistic, grumpy fish troll. Things are about to get interesting.





	1. ======> Be The Depressed Artist

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the fic I was talking about earlier! Honestly, the summary and title are half-assed. But anyways, hopefully I can actually have a schedule of sorts for this so I don't just postpone the next chapter until I don't want to write it anymore. Also my writing miraculously got better! I thinks it's because I switched to second person. Third person's always been a bit iffy for me. Also, a nice perk that comes with my writing leveling up is that there won't be a thousand edits anymore! Woohoo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope Gamzee isn't too ooc. I never really paid attention to Gamzee in Homestuck and a lot of pesterlogs were just skimmed over. I don't think he's too ooc but one can never be sure.

You trudge through the crowded hallway, eyes fixed on the floor below, watching as the reflections of the lights overhead draw closer with every step you take, then disappear behind you as they're passed one by one. You’re surprised the floor's clean enough to reflect them, what with the seemingly endless amounts of students walking through the hallways with their shoes with god knows what stuck on them every day.

 

Anyways, your name is Eridan Ampora, and you are currently in the lowest point of your life. There are a number of factors that contributed to this outcome, but you prefer not to dwell on said factors, since dwelling on them means going through painful memories you’d much rather forget about and getting caught in a torrent of self loathing and hopelessness. Does that sound like fun at all? Yeah, you didn't think so.

 

You realize you stopped in the middle of the hallway and have been standing around for a few minutes, as if you were met with a wall and decided to stare and try to find a way through it instead of turning back and trying to find a way _around_ it. You force yourself out of your head and start to haul ass to your next class, which is history. If there’s one thing you won’t allow to be ruined, it’s your flawless attendance.

 

You practically burst into the room; the noise from the door banging against the wall causing most conversations to halt and more than a few heads to turn in your direction. You realize you probably look like a psycho, what with you all hunched over and your eyes wide with what you can only describe as panic, and quickly straighten up,  heading towards your preferred seat. It’s empty, as usual, so you promptly place your bag on the floor next to it and plop down in the cold, hard chair.

 

The students have returned to their conversations by this point, seeming to have already forgotten about the disturbance you caused just a few seconds prior. You can nearly smell their indifference in the air.

 

During your time here, it's become increasingly clear that college students don’t give a fuck about anything. There could be an announcement stating that there's a murderer on campus and people would still try to get drunk off their asses at parties. It’s also become clear that booze is one of the three ingredients that make up a college student's fuel. The full list is booze, caffeine, and unrivaled panic. It disgusts you, yet makes you about a thousand times less nervous than you were in highschool. Probably because in highschool, everyone just wanted to be on top and fuck everyone else over; including you, a troll with blood that’s only lower than that of the royal family. Here however, no one cares enough to mess with anyone because they’re paying a fuckton of money to be here and would rather die than get kicked out because of some petty social competition.

 

The professor comes in right on time and claps to get everyone's attention. You don’t particularly approve of his methods, seeing as there’s much more efficient ways of gaining attention, but you don’t voice your opinion. There’s no reason to, since most of the sleep-deprived students are completely focused on him. As he launches into his lesson, you see some students start to pull out their notebooks or pages of paper and start scrawling down notes, while others simply put their head down and attempt to catch up on sleep that they so desperately need. You pull your notebook out too, but not for notes. As you open it, sketches of marine life, weapons, and even a few stray faces welcomes you.

 

Your passion is art, and more than likely always will be. You remember it being the first thing that got you motivated after your brother Cronus broke your toy wand and promptly explained that magic wasn’t real. It _devastated_ you.

 

As a child, magic was your everything; your purpose and very existence; and for Cronus to say that it was just a work of fiction broke your small, innocent heart. If you were more than a few sweeps old at the time, you would’ve told Cronus that his chances of getting laid weren’t real either. But you weren't older, so you ran back into the hive crying like a wriggler. Now that you're reflecting on it, you realize how embarrassing it was. Jesus...

 

You flip through the notebook until you come to an empty page, the crisp white sheet begging to be marked on. You open your pencil case and grab your ‘art pencil’. In reality, it’s just violet mechanical pencil, but you’ve dubbed it your art pencil because of how smoothly you can draw with it and how easy it is on your hand. Cramps are a thing of the past that will never dare show it’s face around you with this pencil!

 

You ponder what to draw for a bit before making light, smooth strokes with the pencil. The first thing that you draw is a lilac sprouting from the earth with small, delicate petals. A begonia blooms next to it, the two of them leaning on eachother a bit, just barely touching but still noticeable. You add on a few insects and some dew on the petals to give the flowers a crisp morning appearance. After a quick debate against yourself, you decide to color the drawing in and search your bag for your tin of colored pencils. You pull it out and rummage through it, choosing a few kinds of violet, green,and a handful of warmer colors. A few color tests later leaves you with a lime green, a vibrant orange, and a violet that’s the exact color of your blood.

 

As you work, the lesson draws on, the sound of the professor's voice and pencils rapidly scribbling down notes echoing throughout the room. Of course, you don’t pay any mind to the noises. Your drawing is taking up all your attention. Shades and small details appear with every movement of your pencil.

 

By the time you’re finished with your masterpiece, it’s almost time to head to your next class, chemistry. You give the drawing a calculating look before deeming it good enough. You start to stuff the notebook and tin back into your bag carefully so nothing gets bent or opens up. You vaguely wonder what today's lecture was about.

 

Although you missed an entire lesson, you aren’t worried. The reason is because you’re a bit of a history nerd. And by a bit, you mean a total history nerd. You find it fascinating how what happened in the past affected the future so much. If you were forced to pick a favorite topic in history though, you’d have to say it’s the wars. You enjoy finding where different tactics came from and how they changed for better or for worse. Of course, your love for war in history may be because of your father. When you still lived at home, he made you read what felt like (and may very well be) thousands of books about war, hammering all the details into your thinkpan until you could recite the entire book based off of memory alone before shoving another tome in front of your gander bulbs.

 

Dualscar Ampora is an intimidating man for many reasons, one of them being his past position of power in the Navy. Unfortunately, with great power comes the need to have a successor, and he passed that role onto you. Cronus would’ve been his choice, had the teen actually spent time at home. There’s also the fact that Cronus has a passion for music that rivals your passion for art. "A hobby for wimps." your father had said.

 

Dualscar wanted to enlist you in the Navy the moment you graduated highschool, but you were having none of it. When you got home that night, he was filling out your paperwork, ready to get you out of his sight and onto the waters. So, summoning all the courage you could, you walked up to him and stated you weren’t going to work in the Navy and wanted to be an artist instead. Of course, he blew up at you for that. He yelled about how you broke his trust and how this family must be dysfunctional. He hit you more times than you could count. By one in the morning, you were on a plane to Missouri with next to no belongings and bruises littering your grey skin. You stayed with Cronus (who was surprisingly kind to you) and his matesprit Kankri for a few days before you submitted a college application and paid the tuition fee, which sucked up just about all the money you had on you.

 

While you’re swimming in your memories, students around you start to leave the room, rushing to their next class. Eventually, you’re the only one left. It’s not too far off from being a perfect representation of your life. People around you just get up and leave until you’re the only one still sitting in the room that is your relationships.

* * *

 

The rest of the day was spent mindlessly sitting through your classes. Whatever artistic motivation you had before was completely drained away by the thoughts of your father and your oh so fucking amazing metaphor for your life. Of course, just because you weren’t distracted by art didn’t mean you actually listened in class. If you had to make a guess, you’d say that you payed attention in maybe a third of them.  Biology and some other class you don’t know shit about.

 

You are currently on your way to your dorm. There are a few students around you either scurrying off to their next class or screwing around with friends. A passerby who’s staring at her phone looks up to glance at you suspiciously. That’s all you get nowadays. Suspicious looks or crippling neutral expressions. _Whatever._ You make your way towards the dormitory, a smidge of rage settling in your thinkpan.

 

You enter the dormitory and go through the winding hallways before reaching your dorm. The plate mounted on it reads 311. You unlock the door and open it, then step through and reverse the process, locking it once it’s closed.

 

The room is split in two, with each side having a bed, a desk, a chair for the desk, a nightstand, and a lamp.There’s also one closet and one dresser for the residents to share. It takes up less space, but it was annoying as hell when your previous roommate decided to dick around with your clothes. You really hated the guy. And not platonically. You were pitch as hell for him, and the way he loved to fuck you over in the worst possible ways didn’t help keep it under wraps. You quickly stop thinking about the long gone douchebag, seeing as it was becoming increasingly harder to not just break down and collapse onto the hideous shaggy carpet underneath your feet.

 

The walls of your side of the room are covered in art you’ve made. Some are simple sketches on looseleaf paper, while others are full blown paintings on canvases that you had to work your ass of to get the money for. It’d be great if you could just take money out of the families account like you used to be able to do, but Dualscar canceled your card. Heartless bastard.

 

There’s also a few mementos on your desk. A few shells, a golden bracelet, and a cracked pair of glasses with one red lens and one blue lens. Looking at the mementos is always painful, but you can’t bring yourself to throw them away, so you always end up suffering in silence whenever you use your desk.

 

The other side of the room is completely barren, the bed neatly made and nothing adorning the desk or walls like your side. Well it makes sense, no one lives in this room but you. You used to have two roommates. The douche you were thinking about earlier and your cousin. Then something happened. Something that brought catastrophic results. _Stop fuckin’ thinkin’ about them unless you want to end up as a pathetic ball a tears._

 

You unwrap the scarf from your neck and place it on the violet comforter adorning your bed. You aren’t sure why you still wear it. Oh right. Assholes like to fuck around with your gills. There’s been more than one occasion where some prick decided it’d be a funny idea to shove a pen up your gills. Let’s just say that they got some scars that’d remind them not to fuck around with them again.

 

You kick your shoes off a little roughly due to your newfound irritation towards humans and a few land dwelling trolls who know nothing about seadweller biology. You shove them under the bed before flopping onto the mattress whith a hearty _whump_

 

You wish there was a recuperacoon in here, but since they aren’t vital to trolls, the heads of the college decided not to put one in the dorms. You suppose it makes sense. Plus there’s almost always a mess when entering and exiting the ‘coon. You’re pretty sure no one fancies the idea of cleaning sopor out of the carpet.

 

You’re about to fall asleep when a knock on the door jerks you awake. _Now who the hell is that?_ No one ever comes over here. Maybe it’s someone looking for one of your past roommates.

 

You reluctantly slide off the warm mattress and slink over to the door. You make sure you look decent enough to present yourself to the person on the other side of the door before unlocking and opening it. What you find is the dorm master, or head, or whatever the fuck that thing’s called, on your doorstep. Your dorm leader (that’s the name you decided on and nothing can make you change it now) is a...unique character, to say the least. And by unique, you mean almost constantly hopped up on sopor slime and probably some human drugs. He also drinks that Faygo shit, which you can’t _stand_ the taste of. Well, that's not quite the case. It tastes _alright_ , but there's other things you'd rather drink than it.

 

“Hey there Eribro. I just came to tell you that you’re gonna get a motherfuckin’ roommate all up in here tomorrow.” His voice has a way of fluctuating between a normal volume and shouting that both unnerves and soothes you.

 

Gamzee is one of your only friends now a days. He got a similar outcome as you did, so the two of you just kind of bonded over your mistakes. He often times shows up to have a ‘feelings jam’. He’s also offered you sopor pies on more than one occasion, and you’ve taken him up on his offer a few times.

 

“Thanks for the memo Gam. Noww, unless you wwant to havve a feelin’s jam or somethin’ right noww, I’ll be goin’ back to the comfort of my bed. I can practically hear it callin’ me. I swwear, it’s like a siren sometimes.” You internally cringe at the way you stutter over your ws and how your vs sound like ws. It’s a trait you picked up from god knows who. If you ever meet the guy though, you’ll be more than happy to punch them in the face for ruining your chances of having the ability to speak like a normal fucking troll.

 

“Nah man, I’ve got Tavbro waiting back in my room. Hope you have some motherfuckin’ miraculous dreams.” He lets out a honking laugh and you smile at the facepaint-clad man. He lazily returns your smile before giving a wave and walking back to his dorm. You wonder what he and Tavros are doing in there. Probably something like board games. Gamzee loves those for some reason. Or maybe staring at his seemingly infinite amounts of lava lamps. You wouldn’t even think about asking though. What Gamzee Makara does isn’t any of your business. And frankly, you aren’t sure if you want it to be your buisness or not.

 

You go back inside and shut the door, not bothering to lock it this time. You take a seat on your bed as this new information sinks in.

 

A new roommate, huh? Let’s see how you’ll fuck this relationship up.


	2. ======> Be The Awesome Robotics Engineer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Halfway through this I was just winging it because I only drafted to where Gamzee introduces himself to Dirk. Anyways, I've decided that there will definitely be pale EriGam in this, because if these two don't bond over mistakes and have pale feelings jams, I will lose my god damn mind. Also The Psiioniic is a teacher because plot reasons and why the hell not. What else is he gonna do? Work with tech? Nah, that's Sollux's job. And holy shit there's a lotta dialogue now. Even though it's one of the things I'm awful at. Oh, one more thing. Lemee know if Roxy's ooc, cause I was already winging it with Gamzee, but now I'm just hoping I'll graze something with the weapon that is dialogue.

 

“Hey Dirky, we’re here!” A hand coming from your left lands on your shoulder and shakes you a bit, bringing you back to reality. Shit, you were totally spacing out for the entire ride. You hope your driver didn’t say anything important. Probably not, given that the Strilonde family has a tendency to ramble about shit that doesn’t matter in the slightest bit.

 

“C’mon, it won’t be that bad.” she says sympathetically. You must have a sour expression if she said that. A look in the mirror shows that you’re sporting a slight frown. You sigh and turn to face your dear sister Roxy. A reassuring smile is etched into her features. You sigh and shrug her hand off your shoulder.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re forcing me to go here Roxy. I’d prefer to just work in the comfort of my home without anyone interfering. You know this. According to your standards, this probably isn’t anything to hate, but my standards are currently bashing me over the head shouting that this is going to be the equivalent of the ninth circle of hell.” Now it’s Roxy’s turn to sigh.

 

“Look, I know this isn’t your cup of tea. In fact, it’s probably the most vile tea you could think of. But you can’t just stay in that apartment. If you just stay there, you’ll have to continue living off Bro’s money, and I know for sure that you don’t want to do that. Getting a degree here will help you get into companies n shit. You can use that sweet moolah to get your own apartment and scraps and whatever the hell else you’d want! Doesn’t that sound great? And what’s so bad about college anyways?”

 

“How about the fact that I can’t just work on my robotics all day and will be forced to go to classes that are completely unrelated to my desired occupation. How about the fact that I’ll be stuck with hundreds of students who’re only still alive because their blood was replaced with pure caffeine long ago. How about the fact that I’ll be gifted with boring-ass professors who will practically force me to become one of the previously mentioned braindead students. Oh, and let’s not forget that I’ll have to share a room with some prick who’ll most likely have nothing in common with me. All this shit will happen, all because you dragged my ass to this beacon of hell.” You risk taking a glance at her face, hoping it’s not one of her famous ‘Kitty Cat Faces’. (She chose the name because “Cats are sooo much cuter than those crazy-ass dogs!”) Instead, you’re faced with her pink orbs staring at you calmly and a neutral expression.

 

“Look Dirk, I know that all the things you said earlier prolly will happen. I know that it’ll suck, but I really want you to do this. I want you to have enough to get away from your abusive and neglectful asshole of a brother. I want you to get out for once and actually meet people. Look, if not for yourself, then please, at least do it for me.” God dammit. How the hell are you supposed to say no to _that_? Oh sweet lord, _now_ she’s doing the Kitty Cat Face. Sometimes, you really hate how she can just suck the will to fight against undesired activities out of you. But then you’re reminded that it’s one of the reasons you love her so fucking much. You let out a long sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose. Man, today is just full of….sighprises. That was one of the worst jokes you’ve ever made, and you’re oddly proud of it.

 

“Fine. I’ll endure the suffering this hellhole will inflict on me for the next couple of years.” Roxy gives a loud whoop that has you covering your left ear. “Dammit Rox, I’m right next to you! Think before you make loud as fuck noises.”

 

“Sorry!” An apologetic look crosses her face. “Oh, right. There’s somethin’ you gotta do while you’re here, okay?”

 

“Depends on what it is.” you state in your usual monotone voice.

 

“Ya gotta make some friends!” Shit. You open your mouth to protest, but she places a hand over it to stop you. “ At least one okay? Doesn’t matter who, as long as you see them like you see Janey and Jakey. Your roommate might be a good start, but if he’s a total douche then don’t bother. Actually, tell me if he’s a douchebag and I’ll get Janey to prank his ass when we all visit.”

 

“Visit? Is that even a thing you can do in college? Isn’t there some rule about no people from other colleges coming on campus or some bullshit like that?” you inquire.

 

“Omg Dirk, you know absolutely nothin’ about college apparently. Of course we can visit! Janey and Jakey won’t be able to come all the time, but I’ll try to visit whenever I’m not being buried alive in assignments.” Well, the fact that you’ll be able to still see your friends is a bit more reassuring. Her eyes flit towards the clock and a panic expression appears on her face.

 

“Oh shit, I gotta go like, right now unless I wanna be yelled at by my hard-ass English professor.” She starts pushing you as you scramble to get out of the car. “I’ll facetime you later tonight, okay!” She doesn't wait for you to answer, shifting the car into reverse and speeding out of the parking lot. She’s definitely going to get a ticket. _Again._

 

You turn around to stare at the gate outside the main building. The black paint is a little chipped, revealing a grey interior. You look at the time on your phone quickly. You have about half an hour before you’re expected to go to your first class, which is Calculus I. You decide that the best course of action is to get yourself set up in the dorm first. Unless you want to lug around the box of your belongings that’s currently resting in your arms all day long, which would be a great workout, but not something you really want to do.

 

You make your way to the dormitory while heavily relying on the map of the campus. According to the huge stack of papers that Roxy shoved into your hands a few days prior, your room number is 311 and you share with some guy named Eridan Ampora.

 

When you shove your way inside the dormitory, some creepy looking troll in face paint looks in your direction and ceases his conversation with another troll in a wheelchair. He starts to pad over to you, an eerily calm expression on his face. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t abso-fucking-lutely terrified. How the hell could you not be? This looks like a guy who murdered seventy children and then blended their remains into some disgusting blood smoothie. He stops about two feet away from you and plasters a smile on his face. Even though one would think it’s fake, it looks surprisingly genuine.

 

“Hey there motherfucker. Welcome to the miraculous Alternian dorm! I’m the RA, Gamzee, and that motherfucker over there is Tavros.” He points to the boy in the wheelchair, who gives a shy smile and a small wave. “Anyways, you’re gonna be with Eribro. Figured you were a person who could work some miracles on him. Motherfucker hasn’t had a roommate in a long time, and the way he lost his is fuckin’ tragic.” A look of pity shows up on his face and his smile turns from joyous and relaxed to depressed. “C’mon, I’ll be your motherfucking escort.” Gamzee drapes his arm around your shoulder and starts dragging you along the halls. Tavros gives a wave that’s only seen by you and starts wheeling off to god knows where.

 

After a trip up the stairs and a few hallways, the two of you end up in front of a room with ‘311’ on a plaque above the door. Gamzee finally removes his arm from your shoulders and knocks on the door. A troll steps out and looks at the two of you blearily. He must’ve just gotten up.

 

The troll, who you presume to be Eridan, has a outfit that practically screams ‘hipster’ on at the moment. Striped pants, a black long sleeve shirt with the Aquarius symbol, and a striped scarf cling to his slim frame. He has zigzag-like horns sprouting from his head. His hair has a streak of violet running through the center of it, and there’s what appears to be the remains of gel in it. If anything, you like this guy's use of hair gel. That means you can just use his if you run out and are too lazy to go pick some up. He also has what looks like fins on his head. You conclude that this must be one of those ‘seadweller’ trolls.

 

“Is that my neww roommate Gam?” he asks the tall (and still scary as hell) troll next to you. Eridan has this odd stutter with his ws. You kind of find it cute, but in the way how it makes him less menacing than he appears. Not to say he's menacing, but he has a kind of look that means he'll wreck shit if you mess with him too much.

 

“Yep. Eribro, this motherfucker is Dirk. Unless more shit goes down, he’ll be your roommate for the rest of your miraculous college years. Show him around when the two of you got time.” he says before giving Eridan a firm hug. If you thought Gamzee looked friendly with Tavros, he looks downright...um...what was the word again? Pale! He looks downright pale with Eridan. You have a feeling you’ll be learning more about their weird quadrants from these two later on.

 

“Yeah, yeah. By the wway, are you free tomorroww? I feel like wwe havven't been able to spend quality time together lately, y'knoww?”

 

“Sure thing Eribro. Anything for a wicked friend like you,” Gamzee says with a relaxed smile on his face and something akin to fondness gleaming in his eyes. Okay, even though you know only the basics of how quadrants work, you’re completely certain that these two are incredibly pale for each other. You realize that you’re going to end up trying to get them together for the next few weeks if they don’t do it themselves within the next couple of days, due to insane pining that you'll have to put up with as Eridan's roommate. Eridan suddenly shifts his gaze towards you.

 

“Okay, I’ll help you get your shit set up if ya wwant.” He starts to pull you into the room. What is with people and physically directing you where to go today? “I’ll see ya tomorroww Gam.” He throws a wave behind him before closing the door behind the two of you. “Okay so wwhat should I attempt to help out wwith and wwhat are ya gonna be fine doin’ by yourself? You look like an independent person, but I knoww damn wwell that appearances don’t mean shit in the long run.” Yeah, you think you and Eridan will get along just fine.

 

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d help out with the shit in my bag. I’ll take care of the shit in the box.” You set the box down for a moment to shrug your bag onto the floor. It makes a loud thud that makes Eridan jump a bit. He directs a glare at you as you smirk at his antics before bending down to pick it up. You wonder if he can even hold it. It is pretty heavy, and he looks like you could snap him in half with little to no effort. He surprises you when he picks it up without even a grunt. Damn, he’s packing some muscle somewhere.  

 

You take in your surroundings as you make your way to the untouched part of the room. You both have a desk, bed, chair, nightstand, and lamp, but there’s only one dresser and closet in the room. As long as he doesn’t ruin anything important, you’ll be fine with sharing a space for clothing and miscellaneous junk with him.

 

While your side looks like there hasn’t been a life form in its vicinity for a hundred years or so, his is much more lively. His bed is adorned with large violet comforter and his walls are practically filled with art. You wonder if he did all of those by himself. His desk also has a laptop with an Aquarius symbol on the back of it and three objects. A pile of shells, a gold bracelet, and a cracked pair of red and blue glasses. They seem to emit a certain aura that screams ‘Touch us and you’ll get murdered by the seatroll who’s contemplating what to do with your schematics.’. Oh fuck, you forgot you’re supposed to be setting your shit up.

 

“Wwhat should I do wwith these?” he asks you.

 

“Oh, just put those on the desk over there.” You point to the desk on your side of the room and he pads over there. You hear him straightening your papers before he puts them down. Great, he’s probably some kind of neat freak like Jane. You go back to shuffling through your box, taking out only what you feel the need to put up immediately. Eridan keeps walking back and forth to deposit your parts and unfinished projects in the top drawer of the dresser. You would’ve just had it all laying on the desk, but you guess the drawer’s a better place for it. Less of a chance of it all falling off and half of it breaking.

 

It’s Eridan who calls the time to your attention, making you hurriedly putting your latest creation on the desk and grabbing your bag. It feels way lighter, so you assume he got almost, if not everything, out. He grabs his too and shoves a few notebooks that were laying on his desk in it. You can hear him cursing under his breath about how some guy named Psii was going to kill him. He beckons you with a wave of a hand and the two of you rush out the door. He briefly stops to lock it before sprinting down the halls. The sudden movement catches you off guard, but before long you’re sprinting with him.

 

“Wwhere are ya goin first?” You’re out of the building as he asks this and you can tell he’s slowed his pace to a quick jog so you can keep up. He’s really fucking fast. You wonder what he did so he could both lift your heavy-ass bag and sprint like a fucking rabbit. Well, there’s always a time to play twenty questions, but it sure as hell isn’t now.

 

“Calculus I with Mr.Captor.” you announce. You feel a drop of sweat run down the back of your neck. The two of you are almost at the main building now.

 

“You’re wwith me then. Normally I’d suggest comin’ in before or after me, since he hates me and anyone I’m affiliated wwith, but wwe don’t havve time to pull that shit, so be prepared to face hell.”

 

“I was prepared to do that the moment I stepped through those gates.” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. The two of you are running through a hallway now, people frequently turning their heads to gawk at you. Eridan comes to a sudden halt and grabs your arm so you’re forced to stop with him. The two of you stand in front of a room with a nameplate to the right of it that says ‘Psiioniic Captor, Calculus I’. This must be your stop. Eridan gives you a moment to catch your breath before pulling you inside the room.

 

Judging by the scowl the man you assume to be Professor Captor directs at you, you’re not going to have a very enjoyable time in your first class of college.


	3. ======> Sit In Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heeyyyy, I finally finished it. Barely. Ao3 was being an ass for no reason, so it took forever, but it's done, so who cares. Basically in which two bros sit in class and do practically nothing.

“You’re late.” Professor Captor states cooly. You feel his bicolored eyes pierce through you for a few seconds before he turns towards Dirk. “And I assume you are Mr.Strider. You’re uncle is someone I used to work with before he decided to go off on his own and do… Well, whatever it is he’s doing now.” Dirk seems to stiffen a bit at the mention of Psii’s old colleague. You’d question why later if you didn’t have family issues of your own.

 

“Actually, you’re right. I’m the one and only Dirk. Well, probably not the only, but definitely the best Dirk. I have no clue if what you said ‘bout my uncle said is true or not, but right now he’s doing a terrible job of raising his kid.” His voice drops on the ‘kid’ part of the sentence, meaning his brother probably has it tough too. At least they care about each other. Yours only bothers with you ‘cause you’re related by blood, and it’s only when it makes his image seem better.

 

“I see. I suggest you take a seat. I’ll excuse you since it is your first day, but Ampora, you won’t get off so easily. See me after class,” Psii says with a sneer as the two of you make your way to the back of the room. You sit in desks adjacent to each other before you rummage around in your bag, trying to feel the cool, familiar, spiral binding of your sketchbook. By the time you find it and pull it out, Dirk’s already writing the equation on the board down and trying to solve it. You should probably try to pay attention since you’re failing Calculus, but you can’t bring yourself to look at Psii for long stretches of time. 

 

You start to lazily draw the outline of a moray eel with a small fish in it’s maw. You give a half-hearted sigh once you make a neater version of it. You’re bored of this drawing already. You need something you’d actually  _ care _ to draw. An idea pops into your thinkpan and you turn to a new page. There you start sketching your friend Calliope. The two of you went to the same high school together and found out that you share an interest in art. She’s abroad in Europe at some fancy art school right now, but you frequently Skype each other. Sometimes Kanaya joins the call, which you aren’t too joyful about, but she’s better than everyone else. She doesn’t despise you as much and any remarks are said in a sort of roundabout way. 

 

Once you have her form, you start to add in details. You add a wig and fake horns in the background, right behind her. She used to pretend to be a troll since cherubs are the rarest of the humanoids (Why is that term named after humans anyways? Trolls were around way before they came around, and cherubs even earlier) and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. You’re glad she finally got that it’s fine for her to be a cherub and that no one would really care one way or another. 

 

You jump in your seat when you feel hot breath on your fin. "Who're you drawing there?" Dirk inquires. You turn and send a glare at him.

 

“Don’t fuckin’ do that! Tap me or wwhatevver, but don’t just suddenly go next to my fin and start breathin’ on it! They’re sensitivve ya knoww.” You see a smirk form on his face, and you know he’s getting an idea you’ll hate. You’ve hung around with enough people like that to tell the signs.

 

“Sensitive, are they? Well, now I know how to make you do shit for me. Just give a nice tug or maybe rub a feather on it and boom, seadweller gets all flustered and does whatever. Genius plan.” Oh  _ hell _ no. You hope to god that he isn’t serious about it. If he is, you’re sure you can make Gamzee see it from your point of view so you don’t get arrested for the murder that will eventually come.

 

“Whoa there, relax fishface. I’m just joking. Maybe. Anyways, you still haven’t answered my question. Who are you drawing?” You direct yet another glare towards him before turning your attention back on the sketched Calliope.

 

“My friend Calli. She’s off in Europe right noww, but wwe still talk on Skype.” His eyebrows shoot up a bit at the mention of her name.

 

“I used to know a cherub named Caliborn. Said he had a sister named Calliope. Is this her by any chance?” You nod. You never met Caliborn personally, but you’ve been told that he’s “An asshole in every possible version of the word”.

 

“Obnoxious, drawws horribly, sees wwomen as nothing but objects, is malicious as all hell?” you ask.

 

“So I assume the answer is yes.” Dirks face takes on a pained expression. “He’s such a  _ prick _ . He used to hang around me for no fucking reason and diss on his sister and go on and on about how his webcomic  _ ‘Homosuck’ _ , as he called it, was so great and superior to other comics, and none could compete and  **_AGH_ ** ! He might as well be the very bane of my existence.” Your expression matches Dirks previous one as he grips his desk harshly, as if barely containing himself from lashing out at an imaginary Caliborn. Actually, scratch that ‘as if’, that’s exactly what he’s doing isn’t it?

 

“Thank  _ god _ Calli isn’t as bad as him, othewwise I think I’d havve murdered both by noww, regardless of the charges that wwould be pressed against me.” you state simply. “But Calli’s a real swweetheart. She tries to get along wwith evveryone and more or less succeeds. She deserves the entire wworld and more.” you finish with a light sigh. 

 

You asked Calliope to be your moirail once. She gave it a week to think about, before politely declining. She asked if you could still be friends, and you agreed, of course. You still think there are some remaining pale feelings for her in you, but they’re less bothersome than they were before you confessed. 

 

You realize you’ve just been staring at Dirk for the past minute or so, and turn back to your drawing so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash from it. You feel your fins lightly pressed against your head and oh so  _ slightly _ twitching. He also looks away, directing his attention back onto his notebook, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Fuck, why do you always have to make thing so  _ awkward _ ? 

 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Dirk trying to focus back on the professor, and failing horribly if the tapping of his pencil is any indication. You’d smirk at that, if you weren’t having such a hard time as well. You can’t get back into the swing of things, every mark being erased immediately after it’s made. You decide to risk another glance at the blonde, only to see his hands under his glasses, propping them up on his forehead. 

 

Now, it’s not this that shocks you, but his eyes. The iris’s are a bright orange, a color you haven’t seen on a human before. Your own eyes are violet, but that’s due to a trolls genetics and how they mature. They were gray a few sweeps ago, then little violet dots started appearing in them. Eventually they took over like a plague. 

 

He doesn’t seem to notice, so you keep staring. They pull you into a trance, mesmerising you. And the more you look, the deeper you become. You don’t even think you’re breathing anymore, but that doesn't matter at this point. All that matters is Dirk’s eyes. 

 

Wait, scratch that, breathing is actually really fucking important. Holy hell you actually stopped breathing. You take a deep breath as silently as possible, then turn away. What kind of  _ idiot _ stops doing one of the most basic biological functions, for  _ eyes _ ? Oh my god you’ll never forget this, no matter how hard you try to. You put your face into your hands, resisting the urge to let out an unholy scream. 

 

Just. Why. The. Living. Fuck.

 

Your head immediately snaps up when a finger prods at your shoulder. “Hey Ampora, you still on Earth? If you’re not, I can’t blame you, but you better get back here before you miss your next class, dipshit.” 

 

“Wwait, it’s time to leavve already? Howw much time did I wwaste doin’ fuckin’  _ nothin’ _ ?” you whine while hurriedly shoving everything into your bag. “Anywways, forget my idiocy, wwhat’s your next class? Actually, just hand me your fuckin’ schedule.” He gives it to you without a word. You skim over it while you hold the tin of pencils in your mouth. You hand it back to him and finish packing up.

 

“So, ya apparently havve nothin’ wwith me except for this class wwhich I wwould relate to Satan’s arsehole. You got a map right? Wwell, make your wway ovver and if you’re late, jus’ tell ‘em that you’re neww and wwere kinda lost.” The two of you have started walking towards the door, and Dirk opens it. You’re about to follow him, but a hand sitting on your shoulder commandingly stops you. 

 

“Have you already forgotten about what I said. You truly are insufferable, Ampora.” Psii starts pulling you away, while Dirk just stands there like his feet are locked in cement. 

 

“Just hurry up an’ movve on. If ya go in twwenty minutes past, I’m pretty sure ya wwon’t be able to talk your wway outta it.” 

 

He nods, then rushes out, leaving you with the goldblood. Well, it was great knowing everyone, but who gives a shit about that when you’re probably about to die?


End file.
